


Crowley and the Baby Jesus

by Quannon



Series: Good Omens Character Studies [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quannon/pseuds/Quannon
Summary: Where Crowley has a Revelation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Character Studies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564321
Kudos: 16





	Crowley and the Baby Jesus

**Author's Note:**

> There is some mention of female genitalia, but nothing really graphic. Crowley is seriously injured but he is healed immediately. Teen and up precautionary.
> 
> This is loosely based on the apocryphal Infancy Gospel of St James. http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/infancyjames-roberts.html

Everyone knew that the son of God was about to be born. Everyone of celestial stock that is. The humans would eventually figure it out. The signs were all there: The star had risen in the east; the Magi had begun their journey, and Gabriel had visited Mary among other things.

Crowley had been quite comfortable in Rome. He was known as Crolionus (not to be confused with Coriolanus, the exiled General who ceased his march on Rome at the behest of his wife and mother). He had been stirring the pot in Roman high society. Drop a hint at Gaius’ feast that Junius’ wife Aurelia’s maid had it from Balbinia (wife of Marcus)’s maid that Septimus, domesticus to Caesar, was seen possibly in flagrante with Aelius behind the forum and imaginations ran wild. Before you know it, either an unsavory tale of scandal and corruption was making the rounds or a new conspiracy theory was launched tying Avitus (not even involved in the original whisper) to, at minimum, an immensely profitable trade deal (untaxed of course) with Felix or in a traitorous plot to take over the Senate with who knows how many senators. He had to laugh every time he did it. It was impossible to predict how it would end and so much fun to watch it unfold. No one ever picked disbelief.

But orders came as the birth neared. Downstairs couldn’t let it go forward without some representation on the ground. After all, She was their mother too. If there was a new addition, the family should gather.

So, Crowley had made his excuses to explain his departure. He was going on a trading trip to Carthago to procure olive oil or possibly copper or silver ingots. He was going to see the ruins of the temples at Thebes. He was, and do not pass this on dahling, going to spend some “quality” time with Decima. Each explanation for his departure was carefully dropped into the correct conversation with the correct person to ensure maximum exposure. He couldn’t wait to return and see how it all played out. 

Sooner than he wanted, he was on his way out of the City, loaded down with baggage and servants and all the paraphernalia of an upper-class Roman citizen. It was 15 miles to his villa near the harbor town of Ostia and it took two days sauntering to make the trip. His small carruca was quite comfortable to travel in if you didn’t push it. For amusement, he rotated two or three of his personal slaves to ride with him. They would tell him the latest gossip and in return he would, seemingly innocuously, drawn certain conclusions. It was just as much fun to see how things played out with the serving class as it was in the upper class tricliniums. 

In the evenings, he rented space to put up his pavilions. The local inns were totally unsuitable and bug ridden and his chef, if he bothered to eat anything, was vastly superior. Of course, his own wine was incomparable even if it was being jostled during the journey.

Crowley spent a week in Ostia renewing acquaintances with other nobles in the area and making sure his cover stories were making the rounds. He fully intended to be back after the mission.

At length he departed from Ostia for Carthago in the Africanus Province. He could easily disappear in that city of 500,000. He had given the impression that he was joining a trade delegation or possibly a merchant making up a caravan to the east as he boarded the ship to cross the Mediterranean. In reality, he was finally alone.

Once landing in Carthago, Crowley melted into the crowd and transformed from the wealthy Roman citizen into a scruffy traveling herbalist. He hooked up at the tail end of a caravan traveling east. It was the dustiest, most unappealing place in the train, but it gave him cover for leaving town and was mostly unnoticed by the caravan itself.

It took six months to reach Judea. In all that time, Crowley managed to travel with the caravan yet somehow never be a part of it. He would disappear for short periods around small towns and then would reappear as though he had been there all along. He was gathering information (and causing mischief – no one knows the right of it yet about how Herminia’s chickens got loose or Junius’ pigs ate the laundry although it was pretty well known that Davinius and Rononculus were probably involved). He had not yet settled on his approach to his new half-brother. He couldn’t very well just pop in and ask after him.

As he sojourned with the caravan and visited community after community of common people, he began to get a better feel for what these current humans cared about. He had spent the last two decades with the nobility and had lost touch. Sure, tasty gossip made for an interesting day and people were persecuted if the gossip ran in the right direction, but this was for entertainment to enliven a dull existence. At a core belief level, intrinsic to all humans even if they had trouble accessing or understanding it, they cared about what affected the people and things that they loved. Disease, poverty, enslavement, taxes, and religious infractions that imperiled their afterlife were vitally important. 

Crowley didn’t really have to do anything about those that loved material things over people. These humans had already missed the point and wouldn’t be affected one way or the other by the Child. They would always believe that some negotiation sweetened by their material wealth would secure the afterlife they wanted. That is if they thought about it at all. Those that loved non-material things such as other humans or even animals, were the target audience. They could change to believe in Her; they could leave their false gods.

Gradually it came to him. One of the important features of this kid’s birth was that there was no father; a virgin birth implying that it had to be a divine birth as well. While the story was not yet known among humans, it was part of the Written Great Plan. Everyone knew that Joseph existed. How was a virgin birth going to be pulled off when there was a husband in the picture? Really? 

Once determined on the vector of his approach, Crowley examined all the possible points of entry. He could arrive in time to join the traveling group of Joseph and Mary. Then he could befriend Joseph and later regale various bar patrons all over Judea with salacious stories that Joseph may or may not have told him. After all, Mary was so much younger than him. Or, he could befriend Mary, although that would be harder, and pull the same stunt. But there was something off about that. Anyone could say anything, but it wasn’t exactly proof. His mission here was to cause more than mischief and embarrassment. He was tasked with discrediting the Child and spreading rumors about his human mother wouldn’t accomplish that. After all, He would be able to work his own miracles in time. Crowley had to plant the belief that the Child was not divine but either a trickster or possibly a tool of some other of the human gods.

So, if he had to discredit the virgin birth but he couldn’t do it by implying that Joseph was the father, then … he could …… he could … he would be a midwife.

***********

Aziraphale was dining in an inn in Jerusalem. The food was sub-par, but the wine was superb. Rumor had it that the owner’s cousin was trying out some new grapes. If willing to pay top denarii, you could sample the most aged vintage. He sighed slightly in contentment and put his cup down. He took in the other patrons as they ate or drank or conversed at the tables. They were all human although he could sense demons in the area. Of course, there would be demons since the Child’s birth was drawing close. Gabriel had directed all angels with earth assignments to make their presence known around Jerusalem and Bethlehem throughout the next couple of months. Well, known to any marauding demons, that is. Assuming any were marauding or sneaking or generally up to no good demons in the vicinity of Joseph and Mary. The birth had to go off without a hitch.

He was vaguely disturbed that he hadn’t yet sensed Crowley. Aziraphale would have thought that Crowley would revel in being here and causing mischief. And he was the longest serving demon on Earth. Just as he was the longest serving angel. But then again, Gabriel had not bothered to give him direct orders; just issued a general directive to all angels currently on Earth. Perhaps Hell was just as uninterested in Crowley.

He finished his meal and left the inn. He was scheduled to do a small blessing at a wedding later in the afternoon. It was still almost four weeks until the baby Jesus would arrive, and work must go on.

***********

Crowley left the caravan and flew under the cover of darkness of a new moon to the port of Gaza to assume his new persona. He landed just outside of town and transformed into an older woman of the poorer class. His dress was made of a rough brown woolen fabric with a cloth belt that had embroidery of plants adorning it. His head was covered with a wrap that could double as an apron or shawl as needs. He wore rough sandals on his feet. He carried a bag filled with herbs and charms. Crowley was the widowed midwife, Salome.

Fresco at the Dark Church, Open Air Museum, Goreme, Cappadocia  


He once again found a slow-moving caravan heading toward the east and joined it giving the impression to anyone he conversed with that he was with some other group in the caravan since a woman should not be traveling alone. The trek took almost three weeks, but it was worth it. Salome managed to find other herbalists and doctors in the caravan and struck up a professional relationship. By the time the caravan passed close to Bethlehem, Salome was vouched for as a practicing midwife of many years’ experience and recommended to the local people since she chose to stop and rest at the local inn.

Salome took some time to survey the people of Bethlehem. There were only about 300 of them with a few children. Not really a lot of call for midwifery. Life was hard for these people and they counted it a blessing if their children did not die in infancy. There was a midwife, of course, and Salome made it her business to become acquainted with Sapphira in order to share useful trade secrets. Within two days, Salome moved in with Sapphira to rest for a few days further before continuing her journey.

***********

Aziraphale packed up his belonging (miracled them into a bundle) and prepared to make the journey to Bethlehem. He had taken the persona of a traveling scribe as he left Jerusalem; making the transformation from well-to-do merchant between one group of travelers and another as the pack animals shielded him. His rough woolen clothing and sandals proclaimed him a working scribe, not a religious scholar. He would be looking for work in any town that he visited; helping to update accounts or write letters or contracts. His white blond hair and beard would give the impression of age and sagacity belying the smoothness of his face. He would be respected.

The inn in Bethlehem was full by the time he arrived, but he was quickly taken in by the local rabbi when his profession became known. There were letters to be issued and repairs to be made, if Aziraphale had that skill, to older valuable deeds and receipts.

As he settled into his accommodation for the night, Aziraphale could feel demons in the area but they were keeping hidden. He could not gain a fix on where they were … except for one. Crowley was here, right in town. 

It was two days until the Birth.

***********

Crowley and Aziraphale met “accidentally” the next day in the market. Crowley was looking to freshen Salome’s supply of herbs and Aziraphale was looking for an inexpensive lunch of dates if they were available. They each stood on separate sides of the table displaying the dates and did not look at each other. It would possibly be inappropriate for the scribe to talk directly to the midwife.

“So, you are here,” Aziraphale opened as he sorted through the sticky treats.

“Yessss…” Crowley responded. “I am here to meet my new half-brother.”

“Do not interfere, demon.” Aziraphale said quietly but with force. He’d known Crowley for all of time. He had to make clear that he would brook no shenanigans from him right from the first.

Crowley risked a sharp glance up. “Or you will what, angel? Discorporate me? Right here in the middle of the village?” He smiled cunningly.

“If you force me!” Aziraphale also risked a sharp quick glance. Just to confirm he meant business. “Stand down.”

“Oh of course, angel!” He picked up a few dates for purchase and turned for the next table. “Of course!” Simulating age, poorly, he almost slithered to the next table.

Aziraphale thought for a moment and then made his selection for purchase. That had not gone well. 

***********

The day of the birth arrived. Travelers were thick on the road through Bethlehem to Jerusalem. All manner of people were on their way to meet their obligations for Augustus’ census. As the day wore on, Mary and Joseph arrived and tried to get a room at the inn. Mary was uncomfortable and could not travel further that day. Eventually a spot was found in the stable. 

Just before evening meal, there was a pounding on Sapphira’s door. “Help! You must come! A woman at the stables is giving birth!”

Together, Sapphira and Salome grabbed their bags, dowsed the candle, and dashed out the door to follow the serving boy back to the stable. 

Aziraphale had excused himself earlier from his patron’s home to take an evening walk. He had wanted to keep an eye on Crowley. He saw the midwife and the demon dash for the stables and quickly followed.

Sapphira was immediately granted access to Mary since she was the local midwife. There was not enough room in the small stable, so Salome had to linger outside, ready to help if called. Internally, Crowley was beginning to fume. All the work and the planning and the travelling and he was going to be thwarted by a small stable! Not even that oaf Aziraphale! 

He immediately regretted that thought. Aziraphale wasn’t so bad even if he had almost discorporated him that time in Babel. Or the time in Thebes. Or a few other times now that he thought about it. But he had been doing some pretty serious tempting on those occasions. And he’d had opportunities to get his own licks in but, in the end, nothing had come of it. If a demon and an angel could ever get along, seemingly they had found the path.

But that didn’t make this whole stable thing any better!!! Salome paced and fumed and tried to think of some way to get inside. 

Aziraphale leaned against a post down the street and kept watch over the demon as well as putting out feelers for other demons in the area. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any other angels. So much for Gabriel’s directive.

At length, Sapphira came out from the stable. She looked tired but excited somehow. “Salome, it’s the strangest thing! They are saying that the woman had never lain with a man! That she is still a virgin! How can that be?” She looked enquiringly at Salome in case her sister midwife knew how this could happen.

Crowley was about to open his mouth when he could feel Aziraphale subtly pushing out good feelings and encouraging those that to which the term “divine” had already occurred to give it more and more credence. Irritation flared. “Virgin! Well that’s just silly. Did you check for the signs?” By this he meant checking to see if the hymen was still intact after the birth. If that were so, then belief in Mary’s virginity would soar. “If not, I could do that for you. I’ve had experience in Gaza.” Without waiting for a clear answer, Crowley moved past the startled woman and entered the stable with Sapphira trailing.

“Yes, Salome. That would tell the tale, wouldn’t it? I didn’t think to check.” Sapphira was now all professional interest plus a soupcon of excitement at having the best gossip bit in a long time. “She’s just down there to the right.”

Crowley approached the small gathering of Joseph and some other travelers. He could just see the top of Mary’s head where she lay. It sounded like a woman (probably) just out of sight might be washing the Christ Child. He opened his mouth to speak when Sapphira took control.

“Kind sir,” she opened politely. “I heard what you said about your wife still being a virgin. My friend here, the midwife Salome, can confirm that for you if you’d like.” She knew that almost forced Joseph to say yes. It wasn’t the first time she’d painted a would-be fib teller into a corner. “Do you think she should take a look?”

Joseph looked steadily at the midwives and the skin around his eyes tightened. But, Aziraphale felt his agitation from the outside stable and sent a calming influence. He had heard what they were talking about and knew that everything would be all right. He would just have to keep Crowley from lying. “As you like if Mary agrees,” Joseph said as he put a protective hand on her.

Crowley could now see all of Mary as she lay on the straw pallet. It almost took his breath away. He knew she was chosen for this role, but he had no idea what it had done to her. She was not a beautiful woman by most standards. She was much better than that. In place of the self-confidence a woman of beauty would have, Mary had the ethereal glow of the blessed. She was surrounded by the grace of God and serene in the knowledge that she had done God’s will. He did not understand how this was not seen by the other humans, but it was plain to him. Fear began to grow in his heart. What if she was actually divine? Would touching her be like holy water?

Mary looked up at him with love and understanding beyond what she should know. She smiled softly and said, “You may look if you so desire.” She raised a hand and laid it on Joseph’s arm indicating that perhaps some privacy would be nice. Joseph smiled down at her and put his hand on top of hers. “Of course, my dear. We will wait just over there. Call if you need anything.” He kissed the top of her head and then shepherded the other on-lookers out of sight of where Mary lay.

Sapphira hung back behind Salome. She had professional curiosity about what Salome would do, as well as wanting to be in on all the details first-hand. “Do you need anything?”

Crowley got ahold of himself. “Perhaps just a clean cloth if there is one left, thank you Sapphira.” He noticed that the woman who had been cleaning the newborn Jesus was still there. She held up a towel indicating that one was ready when needed. 

Carefully he went forward and touched the hem of Mary’s robe. It tingled slightly but nothing bad. He lifted the cloth to be able to reach Mary’s labia. He glanced up to see that Mary had closed her eyes and braced for the intrusion. Unexpectedly, his heart clenched and a place in him asked himself why he was doing this. Ruthlessly he suppressed that and inserted his finger.

Immediately, Crowley felt sharp pain and involuntarily withdrew his hand from under the cloth. The pain crescendo’d into the unbearable as he watched his hand bubble and melt and shrivel onto its own bones. As he fell back, writhing in agony, the woman washing the baby thrust the Christ child into his arms. She had given him the wrong thing in confusion.

There was a flash and peripherally Crowley knew that Aziraphale was there. He was in his revealed angelic form and hovering over Mary. Whether or not Aziraphale was going to smite him mattered not to Crowley as he could only concentrate on his half-brother in his arms looking serenely up at him just as his mother had. The pain in his hand exceeded his ability to feel it as he gazed into those eyes.

It seemed as though time had stopped. There was only Mary and Jesus and himself. He could feel Mary lightly touch his good arm, but she did not try to take Jesus from him. Jesus continued to look into Crowley’s soul and spoke to him in the language of heaven from before the Fall. A language Crowley wasn’t even sure he could understand any more ... but he did.

“My brother, fear not.” The words washing through Crowley like a clean rain. “You are still our Mother’s Son and She Loves you.” 

He held onto the Christ Child like a drowning man. He cradled the baby’s head and held him close to his chest and wept. Silent tears of agony or joy, it was hard to tell. He never wanted to let go. 

Eventually he could feel Mary’s gentle reach for her Son and he slowly relinquished the Babe to her. He watched as she re-arranged the swaddling clothes, held him to her breast, and smiled. He looked up at a wrathful Aziraphale hovering protectively over Mary and slowly got up and backed away. He stumbled past Sapphira mumbling “It’s true. It’s all true!” as he left the barn and rushed into the desert to hide. He hadn’t noticed until much later that his hand was healed.

***********

Aziraphale did the best he could to clean this mess up. He intoned angelic phrases to reinforce Crowley’s “It’s true” into confirming that Mary was a virgin and that this was a divine birth. Then he fled in a burst of angelic light. He still had to keep any other lurking demons away. He could no longer feel Crowley’s presence. If he had, he might have smitten him. On the nose.

***********

Aziraphale eventually found Crowley in the desert a couple of days later. Mary had recovered somewhat and she, Joseph and Jesus had continued toward Jerusalem. The people present by and large believed something divine had happened but were not sure what. Later, a Gospel of James would surface supposedly written by someone who had been there, but it was never verified.

Crowley was looking at a rock. He had been looking at the same rock since he had left the stable, his thin shoulders shaking every once-in-a-while showing he was alive. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked sitting down carefully next to him.

For a long moment Crowley didn’t answer. He didn’t look away from the rock, but he said, “He spoke to me.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say to that. “I didn’t hear that, I’m afraid. What did he say?”

Crowley looked up. He smiled crookedly and asked, “You believe me? That He spoke to me?”

Astonished, Aziraphale replied, “I saw you. I see how you are now. If you say Jesus spoke to you, then I am sure that he did!”

Crowley finally sat back and sighed like a balloon deflating: long and with a slight whistle. “He said that I am still my Mother’s son and that She loves me.” He looked up at Aziraphale. “I ought to be angry. He didn’t say I was forgiven.”

“But you’re not angry?”

“No, angel.” Crowley looked down again. “What did you tell head office? I haven’t checked in yet.”

“I told them the truth as I saw it. You tried to do something to Mary or Jesus, and I prevented that, although I’m not really sure I prevented anything at all.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“I’ll go with that too Angel.” Crowley stood up, stretching unused muscles. “You can have this one.” He brought his wings out to fly away.

“You’re leaving?”

Crowley smiled and disappeared into the night. He told his head office that Aziraphale had thwarted his plan to discredit the virgin birth, but that he had had time to set up the baby for the temptation in the desert in about 30 years. That was also written in the Great Plan. This pleased them enough to let him live.

He never did explain more to Aziraphale. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him how the warm and gentle aura of the baby Jesus had made him yearn so for his Mother. How he would have given anything in that moment to have the feeling last just a little longer. To feel Her Love and to have his new half-brother call him Brother. To belong. To be loved by them. And how for a moment, it hadn’t mattered if he was forgiven, only that She loved him still. 

He couldn’t tell anyone that. He could only bury the memory behind walls and more walls and bring it out only at very safe times. To feel the echo of those words; the ghost of the touch; and to relish even the pain of the severance … if only it would come back.


End file.
